


It’s A Bad Ending, Henry!

by BadBread



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Absorption, Bad Ending, Body Horror, Chapter 4 Spoilers, Everyone lies at some point, Mind Manipulation, Poor Henry, i guess?, slight mention to self harm, soldier henry, split personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadBread/pseuds/BadBread
Summary: In Another World, the toons weren't able to rescue Henry from being trapped under the ink, Sammy is actually somewhat competent for his Lord for once, and "Bendy" takes full advantage of these circumstances.





	1. A Divine Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star_Going_Supernova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Going_Supernova/gifts).



The cursed ink had been flowing over the Creator for quite some time. So much time had passed, in fact, that the waiting Prophet was beginning to actually worry about what the Creator had desperately claimed before facing the inevitable.

_“’The only thing ‘Bendy’s’ going to be for the foreseeable future is a puddle of ink at the bottom of the elevator shaft.”_

The Prophet twiddled his goopy fingers nervously. Surely, what the Creator had prophesized couldn’t be true? His Lord was unstoppable; he no longer doubted that. The ink man had been subjected to that fact in the past.  _Multiple_  times.

No.

No matter how long it might take for His return, The Ink Demon would come. He WILL come. And He will absorb the Creator. Who, might he add—

The Prophet’s mouth pulled upwards into a smirk while he turned towards the Creator’s motion-less legs, that were still comically sticking out of the tower of ink across the room.

—would have a brain so scrambled by the Madness, that he was certain when his Lord came to collect him, the Creator would absolutely beg to be joined with Him. 

Yes, yes.

Everything is falling into place. All The Prophet had to do now was wait, and make sure NO ONE got in the way of his Lord. Not again. If those pesky “Perfect” toons got here, they would only try to steal what rightly belonged to the Ink Demon.

So. The only question was, how best to deal with them? 

~

A deep pained groan rang from the bottom of an elevator shaft. If one listened closely, a name could have been gleamed from that noise…with also a strong possibility of one or two curses afterwards. Unfortunately, the satisfaction of spitting curses was replaced by innocuous cartoon sound effects. To be more precise, a fog horn, a spring noise, followed by a bouncing noise. All of which were specifically addressed to the corpse of the Projectionist crumbled in a heap beside the growling Ink Demon. Who uttered them while gathering pieces of his inky flesh that was splattered about the shattered floor.

When he was finally able to gather enough of his inky form to be put 80% back together, the Demon slowly rose to his full 8-foot height. Not wasting any time, the creature gave the body next to him a swift but solid kick that threw it out of the elevator shaft and into the hallway outside. Hearing the body fly further than the Demon thought it would, his lopsided horns swiveled around as they seemingly gauged the floor that the two beings been pushed down into.

Damn it. No cut-outs were placed down here. He would have to stumble around blindly to find a wall. 

Then, he could get back to his frustratingly resistive Creator. He, and those abominable “Perfect” toons, had delayed his Creator’s destiny for long enough— 

_…Hello? Is someone there?_

The Demon’s horns whipped around to the echoing noise before his head could turn.

That voice…why does he hear it in ink? Had his Creator been sacrificed!? No doubt by that extremist “Prophet”. The ink must have finally liquefied any sort of rational thought left in that soft skull of his.

The Demon let out a small grating noise behind his clenched smile.

If he thought that drowning Henry was the correct way to get his attention, he was sorely mistaken. When he gets his hands on that idiotic Music Director he’s going to—

_Excuse me, can you help me?_

His train of thought kept getting disrupted by Henry’s soft voice, mixed in with the other voices in the well that were screaming with agony. It was a strange combination, to say the least. However, by listening to Henry’s single voice the Demon could follow it for a direction to an ink puddle. Ink puddles can lead him to open pipes. Pipes can lead to walls, which can then be used to form his portal.

_Please, I don’t know where I am! Or, WHO I am!_

The Demon momentarily paused in his blind shuffling. Wait a minute. This…this inconvenience can be spun in a very interesting way.

The warped toon released a low pleased grumble.

He supposed that Sammy did have the right idea. However, that crazed Music Director shouldn’t have taken initiative without asking for his consent. Because of this, the Ink Demon would have to break the promise he made to his Creator.

That their merging would not be a painful one.

To return his Creator’s humanity from the accursed ink, the Demon would have no choice but to forcibly, and excoriatingly pump the ink out of him.

There was also the worse chance that his humanity would not even restore completely from the operation; the ink _staining_ him. Which meant that when the two combined, the consistency of one another’s ink would have trouble settling—each fighting to rise above the other, like oil and vinegar.

To say it wouldn’t be fun for either of them is an understatement.

Yet, despite the trouble that the Demon might suffer, he could not deny the many benefits this turn of events could bring to the table.

The madness of the ink will not only turn Henry’s brain into a blackened mush—where no thoughts of those “Perfect” toons could resurface and distract him—but it also wears down any sort of energy he had left to resist him.

A hissing laugh escaped through the Demon’s permeant smile.

This was the endgame. It was inevitable. When the two see one another again, they will be become one.

_I hear you! But I can’t see you! I can’t see anything! It’s so dark…Excuse me! Please! Can’t you answer me? Hello?_

The Demon briefly considered answering the poor man, but decided to it was best to punish him for the past. That was always the worst thing when it came to the ink well. Silence. Deafening silence to make them really question if they were finally dead or not; only to have their hopes be dashed when the screaming rose in tandem again.

Instead, the Ink Demon used the poor man’s near-constant helpless wails to guide him around the bottom floor of the studio.

Upon finally brushing his oversized cartoon hand against the rotten wood, the Demon’s grin pulled the slightest bit tighter. When he willed his portal to form against the wall, he pitifully decided to grace his Creator with a promise he intended to keep:

**Don’t’cha worry Henry. I’m coming tah getcha.**

~

With not enough ink in him to keep up his monstrous form, Bendy crumbled back down into his smaller stature. The inky army of music department Searchers paused in their attack, turning to their director for guidance. After carefully sizing up the exhausted toon, the Prophet, Sammy Lawrence, gave the ok for the Searchers to melt back into the floor boards again—this battle was over.  

Breathing heavily, the toon watched Sammy saunter over to him; seeing nothing but bitter amazement in those glowing yellow eyes of his.  
   
“That power you wield; it is truly a divine gift.” He spat, jealously was clearly evident in his voice.

“Not only has it allowed for just enough time for that False Angel to slip away, but it also permits you to keep up such a form.”

Bendy, despite being exhausted, gave a cartoonish wave of his hand, “Pah, my giant form ain’t special. Your “Lord” looks more monstrous than me on a normal basis!” Bendy said, staring down the ink man.

Sammy’s glare morphed into a knowing look. Bendy blinked.

Oh. That. Right.

Unable to look at Sammy any longer, Bendy frowned, “I don’t know what’cha talking about. “Bendy” could do it too, ya know. Be “Perfect”. He just chooses not to.” He muttered out between breathes.

The Prophet widened his gouged-out-eyes, “Ah! But that is the difference between our Lord and you, False Savior.” Sammy leaned over the cartoon, his shadow casting darkness over him, forcing the little Demon to fearfully meet eyes with him.

“Our Lord is no L I A R.”

Bendy choked on a gasp and lowered his head in shame.

“He knows what we all are on the inside. He doesn’t try to hide behind false bravado. He sees the truth beyond the ink. So when He joins with the Creator, He will shed His imperfections and will transcend us to achieve “Perfection”.”

Bendy couldn’t find anything to say to this. He was speechless.

Sammy glared down the toon for a moment longer, then turned away. 

“I’ll leave you alive, just so you can have the honor of feeling your connection with the Creator sever. Then you can be witness to when his destiny with our Lord is realized.” The Prophet threw over his shoulder as he dragged his inky feet across the recording room. 

Bendy, trying to force himself up, only splat on the ground, “Y-you’re a bigger loon than I thought if you think that Henry will go down easily! He won’t surrender to “Bendy”! Then WE’RE going to free everyone!” 

The ink man paused mid-step.

“ _You_  are the one who is a fool. You should know by now that that is not how the prophecy is written, there is only  _one_  Savior.” Sammy didn’t even turn to face the little Demon.

His arms wound around his frame, “And only those who have loyally served our Lord since the beginning will be chosen for ascension from this hell.” The False Savior was stalling him. He was running out of time. He had to get things ready for his Lord before His return.

The cartoon was beginning to crawl across the floor, dragging his leaking ink behind him, “You…you won’t get away with this…Henry won’t fall for your tricks!”

There was a pause in the atmosphere. Then the Prophet let out a low but quickly maddening laugh. He spread him arms out to the ceiling dramatically.

“Oh! Don’t try to cloud the vision of a Prophet, False Savior! You can feel it too, can’t you? The ink has the Creator almost ready. Soon, when our Lord comes for him, it will be the end of my suffering.” 

Sammy whipped back around and pointed an accusing dripping finger to the cartoon demon.

“And your lies won’t save you this time, Devil! Divine judgment is coming for you and everyone who ever believed in you!”

Bendy jerked back in fear; once again struck silent.

Sammy, satisfied, slowly went for the door and disappeared into the dark hallway beyond.

Bendy started to feel black tears form, this was all his fault.

If only he had told Henry sooner about what was REALLY going on…

Bendy shook his head, burying his face in his oversized gloved hands.

He couldn’t help but be drawn in and stuck in his own web of lies. Playing up that everything was ok with the toons! That they could all leave the studio unscathed if they all worked together. 

What a fool he was to think the ritual could be forgotten.

The ritual was the beginning to all of this, and it would be end of it. Now it was too late. Henry would never see the light of day again. All because of the cartoons’ selfishness to keep his Creator as himself.

Bendy wept.

~

The Ink Demon leisurely stumbled his way to the door of the room containing his Creator; it’s not like there was anyone left to get in his way now.

He felt it rippling in the ink, the connection between that “Perfect” Bendy and Henry was strained to the very brink from the cartoon’s brush with death. That pesky toon was most likely only holding on by sheer luck, or by his Prophet’s incompetence. He was disappointed that the Lawrence didn’t finish the job, but incapacitating him like this would give the Demon plenty of time for what he had planned for Henry. And perhaps, when Creator and Creation were together as one, they both would take pleasure in melting down that toon for good. 

Sensing his Lord’s presence, the Prophet opened the door for him just as the Demon got to it. 

Ah, what a wonderful sight.

Far in the back of the music department room, a large pipe was jutting out from an opening in the ceiling. Out of its mouth, poured a steady stream of ink. What kept the ink from spilling out into the rest of the room was what appeared to be a demonic pentagram—whose strength in magic was attested to the raising ink’s cylindrical shape with not a drop outside of it.

However, what was the most delicious sight, was a still pair of human legs sticking out from the ink tower. Sammy must have tied Henry to a post inside of it.

As the two moved to the tower, Sammy was all too excited to give a run down to the Demon, “My Lord! Everything has been arranged for your arrival! That False Savior is out of the picture, and the Creator will most certainty be prepared to receive your blessings!” ‘Bendy’ didn’t even have to use his “eyes” to see his “Prophet” stare worshipfully up at him—what a stooge. 

The Demon growled a bit, “ **I can see dat. And what of dos otha toons?** ”

The music director looked down to his feet, then to the side in shame, “W-well, you s-see m-my Lord…They, um, t-they-got-away BUT! Not for long, ha ha, my-my Searchers are looking for them a-as we speak!” 

So the Angel got away, eh? No matter, she’s not a huge issue. Unless, of course, she happens to run into those two renegade human-toons. If that was the case, either Sammy needed to find and take care of that runaway toon before then, or “Bendy” would annoyingly need to hurry this merging along and take care of it himself.

“ **Don’t disappoint me Lawrence, I’da ratha not have tah teach ya what happens tah dos that disappoint me, again. Understand?** ”

The Prophet nodded nervously, “Yes, my Lord! I-I-I underst-tand! I will not fail you!”

“ **Good.** ”

The Demon made it to the outskirts of the pentagram, while Sammy stayed off to the side—giving his Lord His respectable distance. “Bendy” sensed around for a weak point in Sammy’s circle, finding it underneath Henry’s legs. Gently, he kicked his Creator’s legs out of the way and disrupted the circle.

Like the popping of a balloon, the tower of ink fell. Its ink cascaded over the pentagram lines, and emptied out into the room. The excess ink sloshed against the Demon’s feet, which encouraged Sammy to rush and pull the lever behind the Creator to stop the flow. Before he inconvenienced his Lord anymore than he already has.

As the lever was pulled up again, the ink flow slowed to a halt, revealing the prize underneath. The Creator, long since freed from being tied to the post, could have easily been mistaken for a true ink monster. His hair was clumped in black tendrils that stuck to his face and covered his closed eyes. His skin and clothes from his head to his thighs were dyed completely black from the sludge. Remnant ink droplets from the mouth of the above pipe hit the top of his head. 

Suddenly, a loud reverberating groan was heard as the ink flow pressure was officially tightened back up. This noise was also seemingly enough to make the man sitting below stir.  
Henry slowly pried his ink sealed eyes open, blearily taking in the scene around him. The familiar ink that had been his prison for…God knows how long…was puddled around the room. Looking down at himself, he first noticed…oh, what are those things?

He lifted the appendage and flexed the extended digits on it. Turning the base left and right, Henry was marveled by the in-sync movement the shapes shared. If only he could capture this movement, he could watch it forever. 

Sammy watched from behind, as the Creator was amazed by his simple hand movements. In his yellow eyes, there reflected a distant sort of understanding. Yes. In the first few moments since returning from Madness, even  _dust_  was more intellectually stimulating. In that Godless nightmare realm, there was no “you”. There were only the screams of the damned, which marked the passage of time from the deafening silence.  

Eventually, the Creator’s glazed eyes drifted forward to the misshapen legs of the being in front of him. His gaze traveled up the Demon’s great height, only to rest dizzyingly on that jittery smile.  

“ **Heya Henry! Long time no see, huh?** ”

Interestingly, the voice Henry heard didn’t seem to blatantly come from the creature standing before him. Except, it sounded like it echoed straight into his head.

“ **Pretty neat trick, eh? Dat’s anotha one of those benefits of sitting in da ink too long, you can-a start tah hear my voice despite der being no physical contact between us.** ”

The Demon’s deep voice chuckled, sending waves of fuzziness to his already muddled mind. The body in front of him tilted his head.

“ **Wasn’t always like dat. You were too human before tah get a direct link with, so I had to get up close and personal wit ya.** ”

Henry blinked stupidly, what was this guy talking about? Human? Him? All he remembered was ink. That’s all he was before, and all he is…right?

And something else distantly ringed in Henry’s mind…was it a memory? He was floating in a void. Which wasn’t that unusual, he was always in an ink void. But this place, his mind tells him, it wasn’t at all like the ink well. Other people’s screams didn’t plague him there, and the pain that clung to his very soul was washed away. No. This place in his memories wasn’t even a void. There was a greater being there. A being that protected and loved him, and made sure he never felt alone, because they would be together forever. 

The Creator’s black stained eyes widened as the dots connected. That voice from his memories, and this creature in front of him…they were one in the same. He had come to save him. Just like all those voices in the ink well had cried out for. The Savior. HIS Savior.

“Our Lord has finally come to save you, Creator.”

Henry slowly turned behind him to take in the other being in the room, who, he realized, was one with the ink as well.

Sammy, taking in Henry’s blank expression, puffed his chest out, “Be joyful! Despite all the many obstacles Our Lord has endured, He has not forgotten you, little wayward sheep!”   
Wayward? Did he not want to be saved before? Why?

As if hearing his thoughts, the ink man continued, “Even though those heretics—who believed that you weren’t worth being saved—stole you away from Him every-time He had you within His loving embrace, our Lord never gave up on you!”

Heretics? His ink-softened mind didn’t give him many ideas on what the man claimed, besides a couple blurred images of black and white shapes.

“As He is as persistent as He is immortal, our Lord will shepherd the lost sheep to where they rightfully belong. And He has a divine plan for you, Creator; one that will come to fruition, at long last.”

While wholly focused on the ink man, Henry didn’t notice how the Demon began to turn and glare at the Prophet. How dare he speak to the Creator in his presence? Didn’t he know when to take a hint and beat it?

Finally noticing his Lord’s deathly aura, the music director gulped and shut his trap.

As if his piece was said and done, Henry watched as the ink man bowed and moved to the background. Henry’s empty stare followed him until the Prophet disappeared behind his exceedingly tall grinning Lord in front of him.

Suppressing his annoyance, the Demon cleared his throat to gain Henry’s attention back, “ **Dat Sammy was always one fora dramatic flair; I’ll give ‘em dat. But what he’s says ain’t too off base.** ” 

His Lord didn’t move a muscle as He spoke, but His way of speech put an image in Henry’s mind. An image about a possible pose He would have taken, if He was capable of being more expressive. It would be…a lackadaisical one! One that would have been carelessly throwing a pointing thumb over His shoulder at the retreating ink man, perhaps even a pitiful shake of the head to boot.

Henry’s mind sluggishly mulled over the possibilities of expressions—like any true cartoonist—leaving his body to sit calmly as his Lord limped over to him. His smaller hand reaching out to Henry. The black fingers gently grasped Henry’s chin—waking him from his derailing thoughts—turning it to and fro as the grinning head tilted in tandem. Was his Lord looking for something?

“ **Well, would’ja look at dat! Looks like some of your humanity was able tah withstand da ink after all. Ya really are somethin’ special! Lucky you, I won’t have tah pump ya after all.** ”

  
With his other gloved hand, his Lord swiped the inky hair out from his face, removing the black sludge that took over his vision. And for the first time(?), he saw his Lord in His inky glory, and the Creator’s previously-still heart soared.

Wait.

This feeling, it wasn’t joy from seeing his Savior…It felt like…Oh my God…he can’t  _breathe_.

Something violently awakened in him, causing Henry to surge forward, and narrowly missing, throwing up all over his Lord. What seemed like gallons of ink emptied out of him and onto the floor, followed by the sludge that was caked onto his person. Which left behind a patchwork of human skin and remnant ink that refused to leave him. All the while, the Demon waited ever so patiently for his attack to settle. Even going so far as to pat his back every so often after an especially bad retch. Wasn’t his Lord just the most caring?

Weakened after the action, Henry was a shivering miserable mess. Black drool, which in all likelihood was ink mixed with his blood, dripped from his mouth. His lungs and his throat burned from expelling the foul liquid, which was chased by the aches of his joints, the creaking of brittle bones and strained old muscles.

Before, when he was one with the ink, the pain had all been a dulled to numbness, but now it felt like his body was a live wire. However, all he could focus on was how LOUD it was now. There was a steady but violent thumping noise that rang in his ears.

DEAR GOD I WANT IT TO STOP! IT’S SO LOUD! I HATE THIS! IT HURTS! I’M TIRED! I HATE THIS! I HATE THIS! I HATE THI— 

“ **Being human ain’t all it cracked up tah be, eh, Creator? So much pain and sufferin’, hell, the world revolves on da stuff! People hurtin’ one anotha left and right just tah get a little furtha in life. I’ll tell ya, it be a wolf eat wolf world out der.** ”

The suffering man could barely hear a word of His voice through the shooting pains and his heart desperately thumping to flush the inky poison from his veins. It was always like this before he starts to remember as the ink clears from his mind. He was always in constant pain and in an endless battle to ignore old scars. His leg burned like hell fire. Couldn’t he just rest? He just wanted to finally be  _free_ from it all.

“ **Now I got a deal for ya Henry. One you’da be stupid tah pass up.** ” The Demon’s velvet tone of voice turned to a vicious spat at that last part. It was as if someone had refused Him before. 

His Savior’s body leaned over him in the slightest bit. He was most likely about to whisper something secret to him that He didn’t want the nosy ink puddles to hear.

“ **Would you like for all dat pain tah end?** ”

Henry’s eyes shot open from being tightly shut, and he began to unfold from his ball—when had he curled up?—to look at his Lord. He could do that? He could make it all stop? It could  _finally_  be over?

Hearing his Creator’s hopeful thoughts, the Demon’s large hand clapped him on the back. “ **Course’ I can, Creator! And I’ll do ya one bettah! Aftah we merge, how’s about we go pay a visit tah ya old pal Joey Drew and set dat old Liar straight, once and for all!** ” 

Ah yes, it was hard to forget that household term. That name and title was often repeated in the ink well. Countless voices all hatefully screaming for vengeance. Vows of dismemberment were one of the most popular. However, it wasn’t uncommon to hear other forms of colorful torture. 

But something else stuck with Henry about what the Ink Demon said. That they would “merge” together. Was that his “Divine Plan” that the ink man, Sammy, talked about before?

While the majority of him was on board with the deal, given that the Ink Demon was true to His word—but why would his Savior deceive him in anyway? —there was a tiny piece of him that cried out that ((this was wrong)). ((He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong to anyone. He needs to escape. Leave now! Call for their help!)) …Who’s help? And why?

“ **What’da’ya say Henry? You ready tah come ‘Home’?** ”

That word triggered a proper memory. One that had Henry feel like he could melt into the floor. ‘Home’ was wonderful. ((It’s a prison!)) There were no worries that plagued him. ((That’s because you weren’t allowed to think!)) He was loved and protected there. ((It’s not love or protection when others get hurt for your selfishness!)) All his pain melted away. ((Because you were being dissolved like an Alka-Seltzer!))

Despite hearing that other voice rave in his mind, Henry looked up at the Demon reverently and nodded.

There was no hesitation or any warning when the Demon’s gloved hand shot out and engulfed his face. 

_Wow…this is almost like…déjà vu…_

 ~

Without even opening his eyes, Henry the Creator, found himself “awaken” to a familiar dark abyss. But he wasn’t in the ink well this time. He was ‘Home’.

On cue, those familiar feelings of warmth and protection began to set in ((like a snake constricting its prey before it eats them whole)) and he began to feel himself fade into a deep sleep ((would he ever wake from it?!)). However, the Creator suddenly felt a sharp sting in his mind, like a rubber-band was being pulled too far, as an unknown(?) high-pitched ((pained?!)) voice pierced through the hazy veil.

_NO! Henry, NO!…Please don’t….!.Henry don’t…!…………..don’t go!!_  

A distant splashing sound was heard as the voice was, thankfully, smothered by his Lord’s overwhelming presence.

“ **Dat bothersome toon, always muckin’ things up for us.** ”

More annoyed than shocked by the intrusion, the Creator’s mind tagged that voice as most likely belonging to one of those ‘heretics’ that Sammy had talked about before.  
They thought that he was worthless. That he didn’t deserve to find peace in his Lord’s embrace. Why…? Why couldn’t they just let him be happy?!

“ **Dat’s right Henry, dos goons only held’ja back. But don’t’cha worry, ain’t nobody coming for ya now! You belong tah me.** ”

Buzzing noise filled Henry’s head at that word. Like memories rushing to surface but something was blocking them from flooding out.

Belong?

Belong.

Belong!

Belong?!

Henry’s head started to pound. That noise in the back of his head was getting louder.

“No…”

“ **No?** ”

Putting his hands to his head he applied pressure to try and settle himself, “Wait…wait, this doesn’t feel right…? I feel like there’s something…someone? I’m forgetting…?”

“ **…Creator, ya tired, why not get’cha some rest—** “

Seeing past the Demon’s simple diversion Henry pushed on, “No! There’s something not right here! What are you trying to hide from me?”

“ **I ain’t try’n to hide somethin’ from ya! I’m just’a saying ya need tah take a load off!** ” There was definitely something wrong here. His Lord was now openly trying to distract him, but why?

Henry decided to call him out on it, “Now you’re lying!”

The accusation silenced the two, a stillness that quickly evolved into a tense pause. Each was daring the other to speak first.

“ **He can not have you.** ” The Demon spoke; his blatant omission of slang made Henry shiver.

“ **You have me now, and I have you!** ” He insisted like a child. “ **He had multiple chances to merge with you! But ohhhh no! He’s “Perfect”! He “doesn’t need to merge with you”! PAH! He’s an even worse Liar than Drew!** ”

Henry was speechless.

“ **He hid it well, but that Bendy you knew was the real Liar! He wasn’t “Perfect” and no matter how far he pushed himself to appear “Perfect”, he would always feel that bit, that one thing that’s missing. We all feel it! But no longer. When I merge with you, Creator, when we are finally whole, we will set EVERYONE FREE, AS ONE.** ”

The dam broke.

Memories of a little cartoon demon with a devilishly cute angel came flooding back. The two helped him survive the many dangers of the studio. Joey Drew’s studio. Joey Drew who asked him to come back. Joey Drew who wanted to play “God” with him. And “Bendy”, who stood next to him, and was sent to kill him at first. Until, he decided to put his own agenda ahead of Drew’s. But his perfect toons, yes, HIS PEREFECT toons, found him and took care of him. And he took care of them. They were going to help everyone and put a stop to Joey and “Bendy” together. And Norman…he sacrificed himself to save Henry even after everything that happened to him in Henry’s absence. What kind of friend was he?

This was wrong. How could Henry let this happen? Has he lost his mind!?

And the  _ **lies**_  the  _Demon_  was spinning now to get him to be compliant in becoming a  _monster_  with him. Disgusting. Henry was overwhelmed with shame.  

“You’re wrong. You’re wrong. You’re wrong! You’re WRONG!! THIS IS ALL WRONG! Let me out of here!” Henry cried, thrashing around to free himself of the powerful wraps of warmth around him. But as soon as he got one tendril off of him, another soon took its place, tighter than before. 

Frustrated, Henry let out a yell, “LET ME OUT OF—WHHOooaaa”

A wave of unexpected calm overtook Henry, unbalancing him. This was enough of a distraction for the wisps to wrap around him completely, squeezing him like he was a doll in a giant’s hand; completely immobilizing him.

“ **Ya need tah relax, old man. Ya only stress’n ya self out.** ” The Demon’s slang was back, which only infuriated Henry more—“Bendy” thought that he had one up on him. 

Henry grit his teeth, wiggling in the embrace, “Like Hell I will! If you think I’ll give up, you’re mistaken. I won’t stop until I know my toons are safe!”

 “ **Oh, is dat all? I can answer dat for ya!** ”

Multiple pie-cut-eye-shaped-windows opened around the inky void. Henry frowned, these were probably “Bendy’s” eyes from the many Bendy cut-outs placed throughout the studio. The most eerie thing about these windows though, that Henry didn’t know about prior, is that they can apparently  _move_  despite being part of a cut out.

When the eyes didn’t show what “Bendy” was looking for, they ‘blinked’ out of existence, only for another pair of eyes to open in their place. This went on for a bit, until they found an image of what appeared to be a wounded Alice Angel, hiding almost out of the cut-outs sight. Another pair of eyes was focused on a puddle of bubbling ink on the ground. While another showed a Boris clone strapped down to a table, his rib cage laid bare. And another showed a deformed Butcher Gang huddled around a fire.

“Alice!” Henry cried, wanting more than anything to help her.

Henry could almost feel “Bendy’s” smile widen, “ **She can’t hear ya, Creator! While mah cut-outs are good eyes, dey ain’t much for hearin’ or speech.** ”

Henry felt like he was watching a silent black and white movie of his toon. Alice was patching up a scuff on her knee, silent black tears dripped down her beautiful face. Suddenly, she twisted her head to a direction beyond the cutouts sight, as if she heard a noise. Slowly, the Angel eased herself to her feet and ran “off screen”. The eyes closed.

Henry looked between the rest of the eye windows, trying to find his little devil darling in either of them. His eyes kept strictly away from the window that showed an ink puddle, “…Where’s Bendy?”

A chuckle sounded around the void, which, Henry would never openly admit, sounded like one of the most soothing noises he’d ever heard. “ **Open your eyes Henry! He’s sittin’ right der in centah frame!** ”

Sadly, Henry turned back to look through “Bendy’s” eyes, to the gurgling pool of ink on the floor. Not wanting to believe what he saw. No…It couldn’t be…

The Demon read his mind again, “ **But it is! It ain’t no laugh’n mattah strain’n ya ink powers! But don’t’cha worry about ‘em Henry, he ain’t dead. Well, not yet, tah say. I think we should have da honor of doin dat when our union is complete.** ”

Henry glared, “Over your dead body!”

There was another echoing laugh, “ **Give it time, give it time! I’m sure you’ll see tang’s my way eventually. Just gotta break ya down a lil!** ”

“I won’t be swayed. Watch me.” Henry promised, which made the Demon laugh harder.

Due to Henry not actively struggling anymore, the tendrils loosened their grip on the Creator. Back to the point where it was similar to a gentle embrace, rather than a suffocating death-grip. Henry was relieved at the action, and was inclined to not give “Bendy” another reason to do it again.

“ **Ya know, speaking of time, don’t cha’ tink it’s time for dis lil song and dance routine tah end? It’s time for da grand finale!** ” At the end of the Demon’s words, all of his “eyes” shut simultaneously.  

“No! Wait! What do you meannnn….?”

Another cascade of peace washed over Henry, derailing the man’s train of thought. The suddenness of the wave also making him lean more into those wraps of warmth.

“S-stop that…” Henry muttered woozily. The more he was hit by those waves, the more he was likely to pass out.

“ **Stop what? Dis is what ya wanted! Ya didn’t wanna tah feel anythin’ anymore, and I’m just fulfillin’ dat promise.** ”

“What I  _want_  is to be let out of here.” He argued weakly.

“ **Well, ya a lil too late tah back out of da deal now, Creator. Look down,** ”

Confused, he peered down at his body, however, he couldn’t see much past the oversized white bow-tie he now donned. But from what he could see, he now wore a pair of big black shiny boots, just like his Perfect Bendy wore.

Starting to shake, Henry brought his hand, that not too long ago he had been stupidly awed by, to his face; noticing immediately that he was now wearing a white cartoon glove. But, looking closer to its wrist sleeve, he saw thick black ink creep up his arm.

“ **Soon you and I will be apa’t of one anotha, at a level dat nothing could separate us again. Der’s no escape. Dis was always inevitable.** ”

Hyperventilating—he could breathe here? —Henry struggled with all of his might to pull the gloves and boots off of him, only to end up winded by even the slightest effort.

“ **It’s dat ink ya sat under for so long dat’s wearing ya down.** ” The demon explained matter-of-factly.

“S-shut it!” Henry huffed out, pulling at the garments like an animal.

“ **Ya breakin’ mah heart ovah here! Ya don’t have tah make dis har’da dan it has tah be, Creator. We don’t have tah merge on bad terms, ya know?** ” The Demon sing-songed—like a cat does to a mouse—sending another wave of overwhelming peace to Henry.

Barely even keeping his eyes open, Henry slowed to a still his efforts, hung his head low, and sighed.

Maybe the Demon is right. Maybe it was finally time to hang it up. It really wasn’t so bad in here. He would finally be free from all the suffering and confusion the waking world had to offer. He would even be apart of something greater than himself—Creator and Creation being together as one.

Henry whipped his head up to the surface of the void and glared with a ferocity that he could feel made the Demon flinch.

“Hear me, Devil, and mark my words. No matter what happens to me, I know where I stand, and its not beside you. Even if we do merge into some stupid amalgamation, I will not allow myself to end as being a part of a monster.”

The Demon watched over silently as his Creator turned back to his work of removing the offending inky cloth with renewed vigor.

That is, of course, until he was completely consumed. All that was left in his place was a sleeping Perfect Bendy floating in the void.

In the distance, the sound of an overly strained rubber band snapped.

~

A glistening ink puddle sloshed too and fro in the music department room.

Slowly it eased itself into a momentum, which, if someone was watching it, mimicked someone trying to get up from laying down, but failing to summon the will to actually do it.

Finally, a large white gloved hand, joined by another, shot out and firmly clung the flooring. Both gripped the wood as if fearing that if they slipped, they would fall back into the ink puddle they formed from again.

Pulling itself up, a whistling laugh was heard as a floating horned head emerged. Ink dripped from the top of it, down his face and onto the floor as the creature crawled out of his puddle.

Eventually the 7ft entirety of of the creature was sprawled out, gasping for breath.

Wiping the excess ink off of his black pie-cut eyes, Bendy wheezed, “Jeez-la-weez, ya weren’t kidding der Henry, you can really put up one hell’a’va fight!”

On cue, Bendy’s head stung a bit.

“Still given me what for from da inside, eh? War must’a made’ja a fightah, I like it!”

~


	2. Sanctuaries

Sammy watched nervously from afar as his Lord laid prone on the floor. His deep raspy breathing deterred from wanting to disturb him. However, the Prophet also wanted to make sure that his efforts were not in vain; that the promised Freedom carried over to his Lord’s new form.

He was stuck fidgeting in place.

As if reading his mind, Bendy spoke up, “No, I didn’t forget you, Sammy. Just give me a moment. I ain’t quite settled yet in da head.”

With one hand pressed up against his temple, the Demon stood to his now 7ft height; a combination of the 5ft human form he had just absorbed and his 8ft Ink Demon form. 

Well, there _had_ to be compromises!

After swiping the remnants of the leaking ink over his face, his black pie-cut eyes bore into the man in front of him—startling him. 

Finally, his true Savior looked at him with His own eyes; truly, it was an honor. But Sammy looked away. He was unworthy to gaze back into Perfection.

Still disoriented by the merging, Bendy slightly stumbled over his boots as he moved towards the ink man.

“You did a good thing Lawrence. I’d nevah forget someone who had a hand in making all _our_ dreams come true!” Bendy drawled, rolling his free hand as he spoke.

Seeing his Lord so expressive was hypnotic to Sammy. He was frozen in place even as the Demon removed his mask—revealing his yellow glowing eyes. 

Stepping back from Sammy, Bendy then reached into hammer-space, conjuring an empty bottle of ink in his hand.

Bendy inspected the jar by turning it to and fro. “Yah know, everyone here walks around think’n that they’re beyond hope. That once the ink corrupted ya, ya’d no longah be able to feel “alive” again.” Bendy began, removing one of his white gloves. He flexed his clawed 4 fingered hand.

“Howevah! The cure was simple! The blood of the true Creator mixed togetha’ with the ink of one of us toon’s created by the Ink Machine, is all it takes to get things back on track!” During his explanation, Bendy brought one of his clawed fingers to his other arms wrist and evenly sliced into it. Allowing the mixture of blood and ink to drip down into the waiting jar below.

After the bottle was filled to a proper amount, the wound closed up as if nothing had happened.

“Welp! Here’s ya reward!” Bendy said, grabbing the music director’s hands and posed them in a way to cup the glass ink pot safely. Sammy stared down at the container with stunned stillness. 

The Demon started putting his glove back on, “Now, listen here! This stuff ain’t no joke, take it in stride and—“

Sammy cut off Bendy by downing the jar. Throwing and shattering the bottle on the floor after every drop was swallowed.

Bendy’s face flashed between a concerned and an annoyed expression. Until it decided on amused indifference, “Ha! Impatient one ain’t cha? Well, I guess we’ll find out _now_ what dat cure _really_ does!”

Sammy was silent as he looked down at his form, waiting for the effects to kick in.

It didn’t take long. 

The music director watched as his inky frame began to melt, but not in the way he wished it to. Instead of it sliding off of him, to hopefully see human flesh beneath, he too followed the ink as it began to pool onto the floor.

Sammy raised his dripping head slowly. His flowing black tears not getting in the way of seeing his Lord watching him liquefy.  “Why…? Why my Lord? Did I not do everything you ordered of me?” Unimaginable sorrow fell from his mouth.

Bendy just smiled on.

Despair quickly turned to fury.

“WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! WHAT MORE COULD I GIVE YOU?! TO THIS STUDIO?! HAVE I NOT DONE ALL THAT WAS POSSIBLE?! THE SACRIFICES I’VE MADE, THE LIVES I’VE RUINED, WAS THAT ALL FOR NOTHING?!” Sammy screeched, his words choking and bubbling down with him into a puddle.

All that was left was a broken Bendy mask laying beside gurgling ink. 

…

Rolling his eyes, Bendy scoffed. What a drama queen.

“Aw, get up ya bum! I told ya it’d would be strong for ya, but no need to be so dramatic.” Bendy said, toeing the edge of Sammy’s puddle.

After a couple more minutes of waiting, Bendy got impatient. 

“Sammy! I know you can hear me! Ya can’t stay down there forever!”. On cue, the ink began to shift from a blackened mush to a greying, and eventually white liquid.

Suddenly, a gasp was heard as Sammy’s head shot out from the ink. He was quick to climb out of his puddle, crawling across the floor like a man on fire.

Bendy watched the action with one raised widow’s-peak-eyebrow. When the Prophet stopped to catch his breath from across the room, the Demon was finally able to get a good look at Sammy’s new form.

“Ha! That’s a good design for ya. Gotta give props to da Creator for thinkin’ outside da box! If it were up tah me, I’d probably make ya anotha Boris or somethin’.”

Sammy was now a black and white cartoon character, donned in a garb that was a mix of a conductor and a priest. His body was covered in what appeared to be a conductors’ black suit and white shirt, with his once-again long hair tied back with an oversized bow-tie. Around his shoulder’s rested a stole with musical designs transcribed on it, and a droopy bow-tie—not unlike Bendy’s—was tied around his neck. 

Shakily coughing up left over ink, Sammy peered down at his gloved hands.

“This…this can’t be…” 

“Ya, ya, ya it’s real great. “Finally Free” and what not.” Bendy continued, turning away from the freshly made cartoon.

“Alright! Lot’s to do, and not a huge window to do it in. Let’s get da word out! The more followers we have to corner Drew, da bettah chance we have to catch ‘em. Lawrence, you payin’ attention?” 

Sammy was silent a moment, still staring down at himself. 

He tightly clenched his hands.

“You L I A R.”

Sammy’s years of pent up frustrations were starting to boil.

The accusation made Bendy whip his head around, “What. Did you. Say?”

Sammy pointed a finger at the Demon, “YOU ARE NO SAVIOR! YOU ARE THE CURSE!”

Bendy, smile still planted on his face, tilted his head dangerously, “I must be hearin’ things, say again?”

The new cartoon didn’t back down, “You heard me, filthy Demon. You are the true Liar. You did not deliver on your sermon. I deserved to be Free! I deserved to be HUMAN again! Not this…abomination!” To show off, Sammy preformed a small cartoon gag. Pulling at part of his arm skin and releasing it; the movement mimicked a rubber band.

Bendy squinted, “Are you dense? Being a toon IS freedom!” 

The Demon moved back over to Sammy, his casted shadow eclipsing over him.

“Forgettah ‘bout dying a pitiful human death, or bein’ tied down to the monotonous day tah day. Da world is your oystah when the rules of reality are beneath ya!” If Sammy didn’t know any better, the tone the Demon took almost sounded like he was trying to convince more than just him on the matter.

Sammy shook his head, “It may not have been a wondrous life, but it was MINE. You took my humanity. I want it BACK!”

Bendy went quiet, and rubbed at his temple.

“Don’t be gettin’ confused now, Lawrence. I didn’t take anything from ya. I’m _givin’_ ya a new life. But…if you’re gunna be _ungrateful_ …”

Bendy reached for his glove.

Flashbacks of being torn apart and being born again and again for past insolence raced through Sammy’s mind. 

What…what was he saying?! Had he lost his mind?!

Sammy immediately tensed. “W-wait! M-my Lord! I-I spoke out of t-term!”

The Demon paused his motions, but his glove was off now. 

Sammy was scrambling with his words, “I-I see what yo-y-your…vision is now! Yes! Yes! Being a cartoon…i-is…liberating!” 

Bendy hummed disbelievingly, “Is that so?”

Despite his boiling frustration at his predicament, the cartoon threw himself at Bendy’s feet, his eyes staring up imploringly, “Y-yes my S-savior! P-please forgive this wayward Prophet!!”

Staring down at Sammy, Bendy thought for a bit. Again, strangely, Bendy rubbed at his head again.

“The cure is strenuous, I warned you of dat. Though I nevah expected that it would cause you to forgot who _exactly_ you’re talking to.”

Sammy let out a stressed noise. 

At that, the Demon chuckled, “But…I’ll forgive you this time, Lawrence.” The cartoon released a held breath, loosening his tight muscles.

Bendy tsked, “I know how easily you are to get riled up, so don’t make a habit of this.” He warned as he turned away from Sammy again, “I’da rather not have to _remove_ da gift the Creator so generously helped make fer you. I can assure you, it hurts more to _remove_ than to _give_.” The Demon was holding his head in one of his hands again. Why was he doing that? 

Bendy walked away.

But Sammy’s boiling-over frustration couldn’t let him leave just yet.

Sammy lowered his head. A numb acceptance exuded from him, “So, the Creator… _Henry_ …was the key all along?”

Henry being addressed in such a way shot a twinge in Bendy. Something wasn’t right…despite the calmness the new cartoon had now.

Bendy stopped and turned towards the toon, “Yes?”

Sammy was quiet for a moment.

“Well…If that’s the case…”

Sammy eased himself up with his own pie-cut eyes glued to the floor. Bendy tilted his head.

Abruptly, he raised one of his hands, summoning a division of Searchers. 

“Then, I’ll have to take all the blood I can get out of you! Maybe if I can dilute all that blasphemous ink, I can use to _correct_ this condition.”

The Searchers then began to crawl towards the Demon, who only sneered.

“Ha! Ya think dis is enough tah stop me? Don’t’cha’ know anything about cartoons? _Side characters_ like you don’t have enough snuff to go against _main characters_!” Bendy laughed, eviscerating the first Searcher that jumped at him; poor pianist.

Soon, the Demon lost himself in the fun of slashing through Music Department Searchers.

What Bendy didn’t realize, however, was how Sammy was taking the time to watch for a blind spot. Only leaping to strike when the 7ft Demon was halfway through tearing into the last Searcher.

Before he knew it, Sammy was flipped onto his back. His eyes visually swirled until he shook his head to clear them. The sight above him made his eyes shrink.

Bendy’s ink-bloodied claws were poised just above the new cartoon’s face. He was seconds away from being _really_ freed. 

Instead, the Demon’s body was shakily frozen in place.

“R-run, you damned b-back stabber! I-I can’t hold us back for long!” A Henry sounding voice came from behind that toothy smile.

“Even _I_ want revenge on you — **Damn you Henry!** —b-but everyone deserves a second chance — **He betrayed us!** —G-go!! – **Get back here! He needs to die!** ” The two voices, of Henry and the Ink Demon, kept fighting to be the more dominant sound. 

Sammy, wide eyed, didn’t waste any time scrambling to get up and run out of the room.

From behind him, Sammy could faintly hear the two’s argument with one another. 

“ **What are you doing awake?!** **Go back tah sleep ya stubborn old man!** ” The Ink Demon’s frustrated voice echoed.

A half-stifled yawn was heard, “Stop it! I don’t wanna go back to…”

Their voices faded as Sammy ran towards the band recording studio. He couldn’t be bothered to find out the rest of what the two of them said. 

He had to make it to his sanctuary. 

Anywhere else, and the Demon would most certainly find him and tear him apart piece by piece. 

~

Finally making it to his sanctuary beyond the sealed wall, Sammy finally had time to process all that happened. First things first.

He was a toon now.

He turned in a small circle. His gaudy music themed stole swished after him. While his suit made him look like those stuck up ballet orchestra conductors. Well, he supposed it was a better look for him than before. Those ratty, ink stained overalls that he stole off a dead Boris had definitely seen better days.

And he did miss his long hair, even if it is was made out of ink. 

…

What had happened…How Henry had saved him…This changes things.

Somehow, Henry was still alive somewhere inside of that monster. Which meant he could be saved.

And if Henry could be freed from the Ink Demon’s influence, then perhaps there could finally be an end to all of this madness and return everyone’s _humanity_ to them.

If Sammy could preform this miracle…then perhaps _he_ could be considered the true Savior.   

He smiled for the first time in 30 years.

Well then. 

It was time to spread the news. 

Sammy used the summoning circle that he had drawn back when his mind was mostly mushed ink, to call his second in command—the old lyricist Jack Fain.

A long groan was heard through the pipes as the dark magic forced the hat-wearing ink monster to the circle. Until finally, the creature crawled out of the ink-stained floor.

Surprised by his leader’s new look, Jack curled back from Sammy. 

The new cartoon placated him, “Sorry I couldn’t visit you down in your office Jack, you have Bendy cut-out’s there. And I CAN’T have him notice me.”

Jack released a confused hiss gurgling sound. 

“There’s no time for that right now, we need get the word out, Jack.”

Sammy turned and spread his arms out across the walls, “’Save The Creator’; ‘The Savior Lied to Us’.” 

He turned back to Jack, “We need the followers to know the truth. It’s time for the suffering to end.”

~ 

‘Bendy’ didn’t understand why he was so annoyed that their merging wasn’t more complete at this point. He should have known. _Of course_ the Creator had built up a resistance to ink. Which meant that the ink molding—shaped like himself—that he made to keep the Creator’s mind in a deep sleep, had been worn down.

Which explains why he had been getting those headaches when he was talking to Sammy. Ol’ Henry was waking up and makin’ a fuss.

Though speaking of waking up, seems like the old man wanted to have a little heart to heart.

Henry, with some Bendy-shell pieces still stuck on him, glared at the Ink Demon from across the dark void.

“I told you, ‘Bendy’. I won’t go down easily.”

The Ink Demon, who looked like his old skeletal form for this meeting-in-the-mind, smirked, “ **I can see dat, Henry. You’re a fiery one dat’s fer sure.** ”

He stepped back into darkness, and appeared beside the Creator; wrapping one of his arms around his shoulders, and pulling Henry against him.

“ **But that just means I’ll have to try something else on ya!** ”

Henry shrugged him off, “Nothing you say—!”

“ **Yay, yay, ‘Nothing I say or do will sway ya’. Yadda, yadda, yadda.** ” Bendy mocked.

“ **But I wanna ask ya a question Henry.** ” 

Bendy leaned forward into Henry’s space, “ **Do ya even realize da good we did back der?** ”

“ **Can ya even grasp da potential of what we can do _togetha’_?** ”

Henry frowned. While he would never openly admit it, that power…seeing Sammy be transformed into one of his designs…to have life be set to his vision…it was… _exciting_.

Henry shook his head, “How do you figure that!? We forced someone into being something he didn’t want to be. Sammy didn’t _want_ to be a toon! What we did was wrong!”

‘Bendy’, while he couldn’t actually hear the Creator’s thoughts, could read his expression like a book.

He hooked ‘em. Now it’s time to reel ‘em in.

‘Bendy’ wagged a finger, “ **Dat’s not how I sees it. We _saved_ Sammy.** ”

Henry slapped the Demon’s hand away, “ **No we didn’t! All we did was change what he looked like. He’s still the same crazy cultist that got me into this mess!** ”

‘Bendy’ shook his head, “ **Ya not seeing da big picture here Henry! Ol’ Sammy’s been workin’ fer me for awhile now. And he’d been suffer’n for even _longer_.** ” 

He grabbed hold of Henry’s hands, “ **What we did together was freein’ him of all dat pain. Don’t’cha want ya ol’ pals to finally have some peace o’ mind?** ”

Despite trying to wiggle out of the Demon’s grasp, he was stuck in place; forced to look up at ‘Bendy’’s ink shrouded face. 

“N-not if they stop being who they are!” Henry swallowed a lump in his throat. ‘Bendy’’s smile seemed even more haunting up close.

The Demon paused, tilting his head in a thinking expression, “ **On the contrary Creator, I think he’s more level-headed dan he used—** “

Henry was finally able to shake his hands free, “That’s besides the point! The point is we’re changing _lives_! What we’re doing…it’s no better than what Joey did in the first place!” Henry shuffled back, finally getting some distance from the touchy-feely Demon.

‘Bendy’ frowned, his voice took on a serious tone, “ **Do not compare us to the Liar, Henry. Drew is the problem. We are the cure.** ”

“You’re wrong! Our actions are exactly what Joey was doing! We’re corrupting them, forcing them to bend to our wills!”

The Demon went silent.

“ **I’ll be real wit ya Henry, because I want to set the record straight between us. Ya, we are changin’ ‘em, but is it really such a bad thing?** ”

The Demon stepped closer to Henry, a pleading aura overtook him.

“ **For years they’ve been stuck here in da studio, corrupted by da ink that Joey keeps flowin’. They’ve been unable to _feel_ , and I ain’t talk’n just senses. They can’t even feel emotions beyond passed angah and despair. They’ve all given up hope of evah bein’ ‘alive’ again.**”

‘Bendy’ was close to Henry again, perhaps even a step or 2 away from him, “ **But we, we can give them that chance again. By turnin’ ‘em into toons—** “

“But that’s what Joey was trying to do, and look what happened!” Henry yelled, pushing the Demon away from him.

The Demon shook his head, “ **Joey doesn’t _get_ cartoons. He thinks dat der just toys you can play wit and fit ‘em wherever ya want ‘em.** ”

“ **But you and I, we get it. A cartoon is more dan just a character on a screen. They’re their own person. They’re ‘alive’ the moment the Creator lifts their pen on a finished sketch. That’s what makes us bettah than Drew.** ”

Henry stared incredulously, “ **Oh ya?! Then why do _WE_ feel the need to alter their minds?!** ” 

“ **We ain’t messn’ with their heads, Henry. Would Sammy have tried to betray me, his ‘Lord’, if I was messn’ wit his head?** ”

That was true. Henry looked away.

“ **Our real enemy isn’t each other. It’s Drew. The Liar was the cause of all dis pain and grief in da first place. He’s the one we need to go aftah.** ”

Henry looked up again to see the Demon’s face inches from his own, “ **He needs to go down, don’t’cha think?** ” 

For some odd reason, that statement resonated deeply with Henry. And he found himself nodding along with ‘Bendy’.

Yes. The real enemy was Joey. Joey did all this. He needs to pay for what he did to everyone. And they would be the one to do it. They would be the ones get revenge for everyone who is suffering. _He_ needs to suffer.

The Demon’s smile turned sharp, “ **Glad we could finally agree on somethin’.** ”

~

Despite not being part ink, Joey’s connection with the studio told him there was a change of atmosphere. Something had happened with Henry. And anything that happened with Henry without his direct influence was bad news.

Hm. It must have been something to do with either those runaway toons sulking around or Allison and Thomas were finally coming out of hiding.

Good. It was about time for his plans for them to be put into motion.

However, there could be complications. Either one of those options combined with Henry would be a pain for Joey. It was best to deal with this as swiftly and quickly as possible. Namely, by summoning ‘Bendy’ to do it for him.

Joey, with his eyes still reading into a book, inattentively waved his hand to an ink puddle beside him, the demonic circle on the back of his hand gave a slight red glow. His ears tuned into the sound of the pipes inside the walls, expecting to get a groaned greeting from his pawn before he would portal into his office. 

However, he was meet with silence.

Joey whipped his head to the puddle and frowned. Was the Demon IGNORING him?!

He waved his hand over the puddle again, “’Bendy’!” Joey called impatiently.

A menacing whistle laugh was heard instead of the expected groan. 

Joey’s eyes only widened for a second to process the meaning behind that gleeful noise, then immediately sprung into action.

Shutting the book, he ran out from of his office towards the altar room.

Just as he was about to take “The Illusion of Living” tome—which would start the chain reaction of shutting the ink machine down—a familiar noise was heard across the room. 

A portal started to form against the back wall near the power switch. Not waiting around to find out what exactly would come out of that, Joey turned back to the doorway. However, just as he was almost at the threshold, cursed ink rained down in torrents from the ceiling. Effectively sealing Joey inside. 

Before the creature emerged from the portal, 2 voices overlaid with one another rang in the empty room, “Joey Drew, we have come for you!”

Joey let out a sarcastic chuff, “Amusing! Trying to sound like the grim reaper now, are we?”

A white gloved hand shot out from the portal grabbed hold of the wall next to it. Slowly, it pulled the body it was connected to out of the swirling black vortex. 

Joey gasped.

The Ink Demon. But his form was completely on model. How?!

A condescending laugh traveled with the Demon’s motion, “Oh, we’re gunna do more dan just _sound_ like ‘em!”

There was no doubt in Joey’s mind that that promise had the force to be backed up with it. 

Joey was beginning to sweat, “Now, now, we’re all rational creatures here. I’m sure we can all work something out between us.”

That seemed to set ‘Bendy’ off more, “Nothing you say or promise can change my mind! You, Joey Drew, have made everyone you’ve ever met suffer. It is now _your_ turn to be dashed against the stones!” 

No longer dragged down by a mangled leg, ‘Bendy’ was now incredibly fast as he sprinted to Joey with claws aimed for his throat.

Joey barely had enough time to raise his hand in defense. The unspoken spell took affect immediately, forcing the Ink Demon to sink to his knees as if gravity was intensified.

The floor boards underneath the Demon also buckled slightly, like they wanted to open up, but refused. Instead, the ceiling above rained down loose wood panels, pinning ‘Bendy’ with their piled weight. 

Seeing the prime opportunity for escape, Joey turned away from the incapacitated Demon and raised his hand to dispel the ink blocking his path. After the ink was cleared, Joey didn’t even spare a glance over his shoulder and disappeared into the labyrinth of studio hallways. 

“Joey!!” The Demon screeched after him, his voice was carried through the empty corridors. 

Confused and beyond irritated at being stopped long enough for Joey to escape, Bendy looked to how the Liar could preform such a feat. His pie-cut eyes narrowed as he remembered the Demon Circle that was carved into Joey’s hand. That magic, it was indeed powerful. To any lesser creature, it would liquefy them. However… 

The Demon was beginning to ease himself up, fighting against the magic holding him there.

He was getting stronger.

In the future, that spell won’t affect him like it had now. As the Ink Demon and the Creator grew more in-sync, they would become impervious to Joey’s tricks.

The Demon’s ever-present smile stretched.

Joey would not escape them again. 

~

The tall studio owner was running full speed down the twisting corridors, until he found the secret entrance to one of his sanctuaries he installed when the studio will still in production.

Joey took a moment to catch his breath, taking inventory of his small sanctuary. Looks like this one was a ransacked storage room. The walls were defaced with the standard messages from Sammy and his followers. While his placeholders for his many collected devices, and his weapons were empty or broken. The only thing that seemed to be in good enough condition to use was an axe whose blade was stuck halfway through the back wall. Dramatically placed in between the message, “DOWN WITH THE LIAR”. 

Joey didn’t even spare it a second glance. His thoughts were preoccupied by more serious matters. How ‘Bendy’ become so powerful?!

“What the HELL was that?!” Joey couldn’t believe it. 

But the most alarming thought, as Joey recalled his interaction with the Demon more, was how the studio _refused_ _his_ _order_ to drop the Demon a few stories. Instead substituting it by dropping panels on the Demon just to hold him down.

As one of the Creator’s, only Joey should have sole rights to influence the studio. Especially since Henry hadn’t yet come to understand his importance as the other Creator.

‘Bendy’ should have no power over the studio itself.

…

Those two voices…

Dear God.

…

‘Bendy’ went behind his back and took Henry for himself!

“That _FUCKING_ double crossing Devil!” Joey screeched, pounding his fist on the wall next to him.

“I knew it. As soon as I created him, I knew he was _different_!” Joey stomped over to the axe and pulled in free in one go.

“He had ambitious that rivaled my own; I should have seen that and disposed of him when I had the chance!” The man swung the axe around, cutting into the wood walls every so often. 

Joey quickly wore himself out.

He let out a bitter chuckle between breathes, “I suppose I only have myself to blame for that. I couldn’t help but want to encourage that spark. ‘Follow your Dreams’ I always said. Heh, I was buying into my own slop.”

Joey composed himself.

“But that was my error. I realize that. And now, I will deal with him and take back what rightly belongs to me.”

After things begin to calm down out there, Joey decided to scout around his many sanctuaries around the studio.

See if he could find anything to stop the Demon in his collection of research.

~ 

Joey’s heart stopped at seeing another large puddle of bubbling ink. He had no weapon to fight off Searchers anymore—what a flimsy axe—and he couldn’t use his magic or else ‘Bendy’ would most likely sense it and find him.

However, the human noticed something strange about this pool, there was no echoing sound of moaning or hissing that usually came with Searcher puddles. Joey came closer, poking at the sludge with the tip of his shoe. Hm. No burning sensation; so that soundly crosses off the possibility of it being an aggressive Searcher.

Perhaps it was a melted down Lost One, those sort of puddles are a dime a dozen.

Hm, but that couldn’t be right either… 

Joey reached down and lightly touched the ink with his fingertips.

Wait. He knew this ink.

Joey smirked.

Of all the things he expected, finding _him_ was at the bottom of the list.

“Oh my precious toon, we meet again! No doubt you were helping Henry through this labyrinth of a studio. I’m sure you did your best to protect him. But it seems like experiencing betrayal from that man is another curse we both share.” Joey tutted.

Sticking out his hand over the ink puddle, he willed it to rise and meet his open palm. As the dark matter rose, it began to take the shape of the little demon. Fully reformed, his forehead was lightly touching Joey’s hand. 

The cartoon’s eyes were still tiredly closed; his expression soft. Slowly the tiny demon wove his oversized hands around the human’s as he nuzzled his face into the palm.

“H-henry?” He sniffled, wanting more than anything for the hand that was gently patting his head to be his Creator.

A pitiful snort was heard, “No, my dear Bendy. It is your _true_ Creator.”

Bendy flew back, landing flat on his butt, “J-Joey!!” He stuttered, fear quaked his little body and ink leaked down his face. Instinctively, Bendy shielded himself with his arm, which he had morphed into it’s monstrous version.

Joey raised an eyebrow at the move, “No need for fear, Bendy. You’re safe for the time being.”

“And put arm away, you’re wasting perfectly good ink on that.”

Bendy frowned, “It won’t be wasted if its used to take ya down!” He yelled, raising the arm up to slash Joey.

He eyed the monster-arm with an indifference that was almost insulting. He raised his demon circle hand and caught the attack by the forearm.

The circle glowed a bright red, forcing Bendy’s arm to shrink back down to its normal noodle size. 

Bendy swayed in the air, his arm held firm in Joey’s grasp.

“So what now!? Ya got me! What’cha gunna do with me? Melt me down ‘ _for my disrespect_ ’?” Bendy spat. But despite the toon’s brave words, his form quivered something fierce.

Joey unceremoniously dropped Bendy, “My plans for you and the other cartoons has been tabled until further notice.” Bendy rubbed his lower back, “That is, until the problem with dear Henry is resolved.”

Just then, a hissing noise was heard from the pipes. Joey and Bendy tensed.

“Just as I predicted. He can sense even traces of my magic. Time to move.”

Joey, with no warning to his toon companion, started to run down the hallway.

Without even thinking, Bendy ran after Joey, following him into a hideaway he’d never seen before; hidden behind the back panel of a Miracle Station that was butted up against the wall. 

“Where are we?” Bendy asked, his floating head turning 360 degrees to get a view of the hidey-hole Joey led them to.

It was a surprisingly bigger room than expected, maybe the size of Sammy’s old office. The walls were lined with shelves that were jam-packed-full of books and scrolls from over the ages. The floor was littered with ink, old papers and…blood stains?! Tucked behind a dividing wall, there sat a small writing desk that looked to have various vials stacked in a particular way. 

“One of my sanctuaries on this level. Just our luck that we were close to this one in particular. It has a lot of my stored tomes in here.” Joey said, sliding his fingers against the spines of his books.

Bendy couldn’t even read half the books titles. Must be Joey’s dark magic stuff.

Insatiably curious, Bendy reached to one of them that he could read, “Blood Types and Their Properties”.

“DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!” Joey yelled from across the room. Which made Bendy jump a good few feet at the sudden volume, recoiling his hand back.

Hmph! 

“’ _Don’t touch anything’_ Pah!” Bendy quietly mocked, poking the book anyway…when Joey had his back turned. 

“What are we even doing here?”

“What a stupid question. Hiding from ‘Bendy’, of course.” Joey dead-panned, pulling a book from the shelf and flipping through it. Was that meant to be a joke?!

Bendy narrowed his eyes, “ _I meant_ , what are we doing _here_! ‘Bendy’ is probably long gone by now. Why ya lookin’ through a bunch of old books?”   

Joey flipped a page, “Well, if we’re going to rescue Henry and stop ‘Bendy’, I’ll need to review my old research.”

Bendy paused his loitering around the office, “Ya mean it’s possible—“

Bendy stopped mid-sentence, “Wait. What’s this ‘we’ stuff? _I’m_ going to rescue Henry. _You’re_ going to rot in hell with ‘Bendy’.”

The Liar clapped the book he had in hand shut, and turned to find another, “Cute. But don’t be foolish. You need me. None of you down here have any knowledge of how the magic really works.”

The toon snorted, “Then I’ll figure it out! These books have the knowledge in ‘em, I’ll just read ‘em up and save Henry myself! I don’t _need_ you!” Bendy grabbed a random book off the shelf and sat down to read; trying everything to look like he understood what it meant.

Joey plucked the book from Bendy’s gloved hands, “Trust me, Bendy. I don’t care much for this idea either. I prefer for others to deal with problems. But unfortunately, due to these recent turn of events, it seems like we _both_ have to get our hands a little dirty.”

“TRUST YOU?? You’re “The LIAR” Joey! It’s in the name, ya can’t be trusted! You’d cut me down just as soon as it would benefit chu’!” Bendy hysterically laughed.

The toon crossed his arms, “’Sides I don’t want people down here gettin’ the wrong idea about me. I’da ratha not be torn apart with ya by the followers.” 

Joey finally turned to look at the little demon, “You didn’t hear a single word I said. We both have everything to gain by working together! If all goes according to plan, Henry will be _freed_ from ‘Bendy’s’ grasp.”

“You mean YOU have everything to gain! Savin’ Henry, inevitably betraying me, and then using him for your own needs only benefits _you_! You just want to help yourself.” Bendy turned his back on him.

“I’m going at it alone. Whatever happens to you, is no skin off my nose. You dug this grave, now it’s time to lay in it!” The toon affirmed, taking another book he couldn’t read from the shelf.

Joey’s hands quivered.

No.

He had to restrain himself. He couldn’t fly off the handle like he had done so many years ago. Joey’s outburst of hitting Bendy when he had pulled a prank too many, had started the falling out between him and the toons in the first place.  

While he didn’t, and doesn’t, regret setting the toon straight at the time is besides issue of conflict.

He needed Bendy to trust him.

Which meant Joey needed to play nice. 

Joey breathed deeply in and out, straightening his suit and slicked his hair back. Calm. Collected. Put on a winning smile!

“Bendy. I understand your feelings. You have every reason to be mad at me. What I did to you back then, to Alice, and Boris…was completely inexcusable.”

Joey sighed, “I know sorry’s won’t cover what I’ve done. So I won’t try. But you need to understand. We need each other.”

Bendy slowly lowered his book.

“Right now we have a common enemy. ‘Bendy’, the Ink Demon, has taken someone precious to both of us.”

“With your strength and know-how over the world down here, and my magic and knowledge over the ritual combined, we can do the impossible.”

The little demon was slightly turned to look at Joey.

“Henry needs both of us. Hell, he’ll probably need _more_ than just us. This is a team effort. That’s why we need to work together.”

Joey put a hand on Bendy’s shoulder, causing the toon to flinch.

“And while you may not trust me yet, I’m sure that ‘Bendy’ doesn’t care much for either of us. Being on your own right now, is a death wish.”

Despite everything in Bendy telling him that agreeing with Joey is wrong, he couldn’t help but see he had a point. He knew that as soon as Joey was out of the picture, he wouldn’t be far behind. And if ‘Bendy’ could take Joey down, Bendy didn’t have a chance.

Bendy turned all the way to face Joey, who looked at him gently. Ew.   

Bendy sighed exasperatingly, scratching the back of his head, “Well, I guess, it's better to stick to the devil ya know.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello-yellow everyone! 
> 
> So, things are setting in motion! I’m having lots of fun with this little adventure, and I hope you are too! 
> 
> Again, major props to Star_Going_Supernova for giving me the inspiration for making this fic a reality!


	3. Friends and Enemies Pt. 1

Somehow the endless ink monster attacks had ceased. 

Thank goodness.

The friendly cartoon Angel slumped against a corridor wall. The glow cast from her halo accentuated the dark circles under her eyes.

She was all alone now.

Their Boris had been kidnapped by Su—‘Alice’ a long time ago. And Bendy…he had sacrificed himself to let her get away from Sammy and his Searchers. 

She folded in on herself.

How could she let this happen…How could she be this weak?!

She didn’t even _try_.

How could she be so selfish?

Maybe…maybe that’s just who her character is supposed to be. Just a pretty little dame who let’s others do things for her, and runs away when things get hairy. Just a side character at best.

She gently wiped away her black tears. She wouldn’t be beautiful if she cried.

And that…that was all she had left at this point.

Thinking back, she couldn’t help but wish things had been different.

If only they got to Henry in time. But Sammy and his followers ambushed Bendy and Alice on their way to him; which allowed ‘Bendy’ to absorb Henry.

If only they hadn’t left their sanctuary. If Alice and Bendy had made Henry stay with them, Henry would have been safe. None of this would have happened in the first place.

…

If only Henry hadn’t come back. _None_ of this would have happened. Alice and Bendy and _Boris_ could have lived in peace, in their safe little section of the studio. No human’s turned to psychotic deformed cartoons, no manipulative and abusive studio owners, no abandoning parental figures could _hurt_ them _anymore_.

…

Alice shook her head. That’s not fair to think. Henry loved them, and they him.

They _had_ to help him. Because each of them knew Henry would have, and has, laid down his own life when they were in trouble. They were his, just as much as he was theirs.

The tears flowed again.

Beauty be damned. Alice cried.

Unbeknownst to the weeping Angel, a Piper and a Striker had discovered her and began to close in. It was only when they were in range for attack did Alice hear their groans over her cries.

The Angel couldn’t dodge out of the way in time as the Piper raised his wrench over her.

Alice covered her face as the weapon swung down on her.

~

Joey chopped down another Bendy cut-out, “Bendy, we’re trying NOT to get the Ink Demon’s attention. Watch where you step!” He hissed.

The man suspected now that Bendy was just being careless to get under his skin. Which, unfortunately, was working. Joey sighed. That little cartoon demon was going to give him an ulcer from stress. That is, unless, the Ink Demon doesn’t find and rip him apart first.

“Aw, ya worry too much Joey! I managed to avoid bein’ seen by dat ol’ Ink Demon for years now! I ain’t about to get caught _now_!”

The duo had been traversing the studio undetected for some time. Finding as many of Joey’s hidden sanctuaries’ to explore as possible as they journeyed down into the studio. Unfortunately, a lot of them had been impossible to get into, due to the placement of cut-outs or an over-abundance of Searcher puddles or Lost Ones guarding the entrances.

However, there had been a couple of good finds in the ones that weren’t already scavenged. A couple of useful tomes, a handful of vials that Joey refused to discuss, and some rations. Mostly in the form of the unperishable bacon soup—all of which, Joey had Bendy put into his hammer-space for safe keeping.

Lastly, of course, was the new and stronger axe that Joey now weld. Bendy couldn’t help but wonder why there were so many axes readily available in the studio to begin with.

Bendy’s head swiveled 360 degrees to face Joey while his body keep walking forward, “Ya know, somethin’ I realized over da years is dat ‘Bendy’ can’t look through every cut-out at one time. He has tah focus on a cut-out before he can actually see outta it.”

Joey wiped some sweat off his brow and kept an even pace, “Even so. We shouldn’t test fate. Best to stay out of his sight. And eyes forward. That’s how you keep running into things.” Joey grabbed the top of Bendy’s head and turned it back forward as he walked past him.

Bendy did his best to match the tall man’s stride, “Hey, Joey, what if—“

Joey sighed roughly, “Don’t start this again!”

“…But WHAT IF the key to getting ‘Bendy’ and Henry to separate is in one of those other sanctuaries?” Bendy rapid-fired.

“Bendy—“

“We HAVE to try! Think about it Joey! Der’s a reason those other sanctuaries are blocked off! ‘Bendy’s’ bettin’ on ya not takin’ the risk! He’s got ya pegged as a coward, and ya proven’ ‘em right!”

Joey stopped to face the cartoon, “ENOUGH!” He growled, causing Bendy to flinch and protect his face on instinct.

“I’ve told you before, what we’ve found so far is proving to be sufficient. We don’t need to take any unnecessary risks for an off-chance of there being something interesting.” He huffed, smoothing down his ruffled up hair.

The two shared a stare down.

Bendy squinted, “What’s your deal? Why’d ya become such a wimp all of a sudden? What happened to the high-n-mighty “Joey Drew: Studio Owner” who was show runnin’ this horror fest not too long ago?! ‘Bendy’ was _answer’n_ to you! What’s so different now dat’s got ya tail between ya legs?” 

Joey was silent, his glare to the cartoon was downright murderous.

“…You DARE talk back to ME?” He whispered.

Bendy scoffed turning his back to the man in a flippant manner, “Aw, what are you gunna do old man? Apparently, ‘Benry’ runs the show now, not you!”

Joey waved his axe around, “I’m about to _show_ you, _exactly_ what I’m—wait, ‘Benry’?”

The cartoon swiveled back around, his trademark smile on his face.

“Caught that didja? Ya, ‘Benry’! A combination of ‘Bendy’ and Henry. Since, ya know, they’re mashed togetha an’ all?”

Joey stared blankly, lowering his axe, “You just made that up didn’t you?”

Bendy waved him off, “Psh, I wish! You haven’t been listen’ to da ink lately have ya? Everyone’s talk’n about it! It’s not all ‘Bendy’, Henry’s still fighten’ for control!”

Joey sighed and pinched his forehead.

“They’re not just “mashed together”, Henry was _absorbed_ into the Ink Demon.” Joey explained, “Henry isn’t even conscious, not to mention in control of himself. He’s simply a helpless accomplice to whatever atrocities ‘Bendy’ commits.”

The cartoon adopted a dis-believing scowl.

Joey continued, “I’m not lying on this one. I have first hand experience with that creature. Before I found you, ’Bendy’ had sought me out, and tried to kill me.”

The cartoon paused at the studio owner’s words.

Then promptly bust out laughing.

Joey waited for Bendy to finish, watching him wipe a tear from his eye, “Haha! Even Henry’s willin’ to kill ya!”

Joey rolled his eyes, pressing on down the corridor, while reaching into his jacket for one of his books. 

Bendy was hot on his heels, “Don’t be like that Joey! I was just teasin’ ya!” He snickered. 

Joey ignored Bendy in favor of skimming through the pages.

Bendy’s cheeky grin widened, “Aw! Did I huwt poow Jowy’s fewlings?” He prodded.

Suddenly, Joey stopped and turned his book around to show Bendy the diagram on its visible page. 

“Look here. Based on the ritual, when a toon is merged with their compatible host, the host shouldn’t be able to surface.”

Bendy turned his head to try and decipher the image. He could almost make out 2 figures from the mess of ritual symbols overlaid on the page.

“The humanity of the sacrifice is simply fuel and a conduit for the toons stabilization.” Joey poked Bendy, watching how easily his finger slipped into his chest. Bendy slapped the hand away as Joey continued, “Giving the toon a more physical form to match this reality, while also allowing it to keep its more cartoonish properties.”

Bendy squinted in disbelief, “Well dat can’t be right! Der’s tons of people ‘round here that ain’t stable! Der’s Susie, Sammy, Norman, and Jack—” 

“You’re not listening.” Joey interrupted, “I said, only when a TOON—which is ink that has been reanimated by the ritual and gone through my ink machine—merges with a compatible human sacrifice. Not just humans being overtaken by cursed ink.”

Before Bendy could sound his confusion, Joey kept going, “The cursed ink, which is the typical ink that lays about the studio, is just a mindless mass. What’s left over from the Ink Machine’s workings. It will stick to anything that moves.”

The studio owner got a distant look in his eyes, “The humans that it takes are simply overrun with its chaotic state of being. And with each new victim it devours, the “Screaming Well of Voices” becomes that much louder.”

Bendy looked down in thought, taking in this information. 

Joey blinked, focusing back to reality. He slapped his book shut, “But, you are right. There have been _cases_ , where the victims own will has _withstood_ the influence of the ink. As well as the ink itself acting in peculiar ways. Both of these cases, lead into interesting results that laid between the rituals’ rules.”

Joey eyed Bendy sharply at that, but Bendy didn’t notice.

The cartoon was scratching his head, “But, that still doesn’t explain da rumors goin’ on. If Henry’s supposed tah be gone, den hows it that he was able tah save Sammy?”

“Sammy? Samuel Lawrence?” 

Bendy put his head in his hands, “Ya! Rumor has it, Benry was gunna kill ‘em for some reason, but all of a sudden Henry popped out and stopped himself long enough for Sammy tah get away.”

Joey shook his head, that shouldn’t have been possible. Victims of cursed ink have been known to withstand its mindless will, but a sacrifice being able to surface from reanimated ink…?

No…It’s impossible.

Unless…

Perhaps it has something to do with…

Damn it. 

Joey put his book away, and began to walk forward again, “Well, if Lawrence was the one who witnessed this phenomenon, then I’ll need to start with him.”

The cartoon trailed after him, “You mean we have to find Sammy?”

“Yes. Perhaps what Lawrence saw could give me a clue as to—“

“—Beatin’ the ‘Bendy’ outta ‘Benry’!” Bendy interrupted, punching a fist in the air. 

“Stop trying to make that name a thing. You made it up.” 

“I didn’t!” 

Their banter started back up again.

Good.

How fortunate for Joey that his little Devil Darling was quick to forget. 

_“What happened to the high-n-mighty “Joey Drew Studio Owner” who was show runnin’ this horror fest not too long ago?!”_

Oh, how little he knew.

~ 

“Boss, I think we found something.”

Walking over, Sammy was numbly surprised to see a couple of dead Butcher Gang members. It wasn’t everyday you’d see bodies left behind of these characters. Due to the fact not many people in the studio can take them down and be able to walk away later.

The Searcher groaned, “Ya think it was ‘Benry’?”

Sammy smothered the cartoonish desire to tap his foot in thought, “Perhaps. But it doesn’t seem like his style. Usually, he would drag their bodies away if they weren’t already reabsorbed into him; he likes _recycling_ the ink.” 

Sammy and his Searchers have been on the run from “Benry”—or whatever the studio was calling him these days. Sammy’s forces have been stretched thin to set up a perimeter around him. But it was all in the effort to have a good system of communication for everyone. If anyone saw a trace of the Ink Demon, they could relay it down the line. So that Sammy, as well as his other followers, could move out before they crossed paths with the Demon.

However, due to their limited numbers of backup, it wasn’t uncommon for there to be radio silence when status reports were due.   

Recruitment wasn’t doing so hot either. All of the Lost Ones had no desire to spilt and join Sammy’s army against ‘Benry’. In some cases, where Sammy had tried to sway them, their more aggressive nature surfaced. So, it was best to leave them on their own for now.

Searchers, on the other hand, were a bit more open-minded. Some were willing to join Sammy, while others and, to his surprise, even some of Sammy’s own, thought it best to join “the winning side”.

So. To avoid any sort of future coup d'etat’s, only the most trusted of Sammy’s top followers were allowed near him—which mostly consisted of Jack Fain, Shawn Flynn and two of his closest music department workers, a violinist and a drummer.  

The violinist who summoned Sammy readjusted itself, “Then who do you think it could be?”

Sammy kneeled down to get a better look at the bodies.

Interesting.

Seems like there’s wasn’t much of a struggle. The bodies were barely wounded at all, was it a mercy kill? That doesn’t seem right. These characters don’t go down easily, usually they have to be worn down before dying. Seems more likely they were ambushed. Sammy looked down at the only wound on them. A single puncture hole in the middle of their chest…

“Don’t. Move.”

How unfortunate, the violinist behind Sammy was killed without him even knowing. Damn his new body, making him more oblivious to things around him.

Sammy smiled, “It’s been awhile since I last heard your _angelic_ voice, Allison.” 

He raised his eyebrows to a cartoonish height at an instant sharp poke.

“Not another word, or I’ll slice you in half.” Allison said, pushing her trusted sword into Sammy’s back a little deeper than before.

Sammy sniffed, seeing through the bluff. “Don’t waste both our time. You need something from me. Any other day, and I wouldn’t know you were there until you cut clean through me. What do you want?”

She let out a chuffed snort, “I have questions for you, Prophet.”

“I’m sure you do. But please, don’t call me Prophet. You’ll find that ‘Bendy’ and I don’t meet eye-to-eye anymore.”

The sword bit into his back again.

“What sorry lies are you trying to sell to me now?” She hissed.

“What makes you think I’m lying to you?” Sammy countered.

“Well, for starters, look at you,” Allison paused to get a good scan of his cartoon body, “Seems to me like ‘Bendy’s’ little loyal pet Prophet got _exactly_ what he wanted from his ‘Lord’.”

“I didn’t want this.”

“Oh really?” Allison faked interest, “Is that the narrative you’re trying to spin?” Her halo glowed a bit brighter in her annoyance.

“So you’re trying to convince me you DIDN’T want to be a complete toon?” She let out a dry laugh.

Sammy whipped around, forcing Allison back, “I am an abomination! I was promised my _humanity_ back for my _service_ , not to become more one with this accursed ink!”

Allison was stunned at his sudden action, then shook her head.

“Hmph. Then you got what you deserved, Sammy.”

His cartoonish eyebrows furrowed dramatically, “What I DESERVED?!” He thundered, “I worked and slaved and sacrificed EVERYTHING for Him!”

“He was going to be the Savior!” He insisted. Sammy began walking towards Allison again. She remained firmly in place. She wasn’t scared of some pint sized cartoon Sammy.

“He was to be the Savior for us all!” He yelled in her face.

She blinked. Something about what he just said felt. Off.

“All?” Allison echoed.

Suddenly, Sammy sunk into the floor, surprising Allison, and causing her to jolt forward after him. However, before she could reach him, her gaze met with countless yellow glowing eyes across the room.

She cursed, she was careless. Of course Sammy was just buying time, now she would pay the price.

“But now. All that is in the past. For He too was a Liar.” Sammy’s voice echoed in the now crowded room.

Allison raised her sword.

“For so long, we have been blinded by lies. But now is the time to seek what we deserve. Even if we have to do it OURSELVES.”

She circled around to find the source of his voice.

“No more lies. No more half truths.”

“We will take what is rightfully ours.”

Sammy, now reformed in front of his army of followers, motioned a hand to his Searchers, telling them to back down. He stepped forward to the angel, “Put down your weapon. I have no intention of fighting you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He took another step forward, “You’re strong Allison. While you may go down, I know you’d take quite of few of my followers with you. And my numbers are stretched far enough as it is.”

“What are you getting at?” She spat.

“I want you to join up with me.” Sammy proposed. His followers gasped in shock.

Allison didn’t even react, “You _must_ be joking.”

“On the contrary, lass, ol’ Sammy be tell’n the truth!” A voice behind her said. She slightly turned to see who addressed her, but kept her sword pointed at Sammy.

A familiar over-sized Searcher loomed over her. His chipper voice did not match his stature, “Times be a-changin’ ‘round here. I’m sure ye noticed? Ol’ Joey’s been forced in tah hidin’ and now dere’s talk of a ‘Benry’-what-sa-whos-its?”

 Ah yes. Allison placed the voice now. Dear old Shawn Flynn. The Heavenly Toy Maker.

If Shawn had visible eyes, Allison was sure they’d be gleamed at her cleverly, “Seems tah me, it be the perfect time to consider changin’ sides, huh, Angel?”

“We could use your tenacity Allison.” A hat-wearing Searcher beside Sammy said.

“And Tom too! If that gobshite’s still ‘round! Since you lot were travelin' togetha' an all.” Shawn piped in.

Sammy took a couple steps closer to Allison, forcing her to focus back on him. She watched him reach a hand out to her.

“What do you say, Allison?”

She cursed again.  

~

It had been almost a full 48 hours now since Bendy and Joey had joined forces in traveling the bowels of the studio together.

To say that things looked bleak might be a bit much. But Bendy’s hopes on rescuing Henry fell a little more every time Joey had emerged from a sanctuary with empty hands and another solemn expression.

Not to mention, Sammy’s trail was ice cold.

Suffice to say, things were definitely not looking good. 

Bendy threw himself down to the ground, comically massaging his feet through his boots, “Joey, we’ve been walking forevah! Let’s take a break!”

Joey stopped and turned, “You’re a toon, stop complaining. You don’t _have_ to feel tired right now. You’re only doing it as a bit.”

Bendy pursed his lips, “Dat _may_ be true, but my gag’s usually exaggerate what everyone else is feelin’! Ya _must_ be tired Joey! C’mon, let’s sit down for a bit!”

Joey grit his teeth, “We don’t have time to sit around. Henry…needs our help.”

“What do you mean? Henry ain’t goin’ no where, we’ll rescue ‘em when we can!”

The man clicked his tongue, “What happened to all your determination? Don’t you want to save Henry as soon as possible?”

Bendy looked away, ashamed, “I do! But it’s not like his condition is gettin’ worse! He’s already been adsorbed, what else can ‘Bendy’ do to ‘em?”  

If Joey wasn’t Joey, he would have broken face at that. But his face remained neutral.

“Come now, I see another sanctuary not too far from here. You can rest your feet there.”

Bendy shook his head, “I’m already sit’n! You go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you in a couple minutes.”

Joey rolled his eyes at his little cartoon’s stubbornness, but he relented. “Fine. You best join me as soon as possible. I’ll be done with that sanctuary post-haste.”

With that, Joey continued on. Leaving Bendy alone in the open room.

It was oddly serene. Usually there was an echo of a Searcher or Lost One moaning to keep someone company. However, it was peacefully quiet. Not even the roar of the ink traveling through the pipes behind the walls was enough to break this tranquility.

Bendy found himself lost in thought. How crazy, how things had lead up to now. Of all things that could have happened to him, he never expected Joey to find him. And then _help_ him? This must be some weird alternate universe or something.

Joey was, and IS, a cold and deceitful silver-tongued Devil. Who tricks and steals and steps on others to get what he wants. Which makes this whole situation that much more confusing for the little cartoon demon.

For Joey Drew to stoop to this level, of walking the studio floors like a regular employee rather than the high and mighty studio owner; it must be driving him insane! There has to be a reason why Joey hasn’t just “dealt” with ‘Benry’ already.

_He eyed the monster-arm with an indifference that was almost insulting. He raised his demon circle hand and caught the attack by the forearm._

_The circle glowed a bright red, forcing Bendy’s arm to shrink back down to its normal noodle size._

_Bendy swayed in the air, his arm held firm in Joey’s grasp._

He had handled Bendy’s monster form like it was nothing before…What…what had happened when ‘Benry’ tried to kill Joey?

Bendy looked up from his musing. 

…

No. There was NO WAY. 

Bendy couldn’t believe his eyes, rubbing them to clear this obvious trick of the light.

But no. There he was.

“B-Boris?” Bendy whispered, reaching out a hand to the tall cartoon wolf across the previously unoccupied space.

The Wolf didn’t seem to notice Bendy, his attention was set looking through some debris. Bendy forgot all about going after Joey, instead, he stood and walked over to Boris.

Only when the cartoon demon was a few feet away did Boris notice him, jumping slightly in alarm and reaching inside an overall pocket. Bendy held his hands up, “Woah! Where’s the fire bud? It’s just me, Bendy!”

Boris narrowed eyes raised in shock, and cautiously walked over to Bendy. Bendy was heartbroken over his behavior, “Aw, what did she do to you pal?” His eyes scanned his person to land on…

“Bendy!” A voice called, startling both toons.

“Where are you?! You told me you were going to rest for only a couple minutes!” Joey called, revealing himself from behind a corridor wall.

Boris’s ears slid back in warning at seeing Joey. 

He pulled out a wrench from his pants and pushed Bendy out of the way. Bendy blinked confusingly. “Boris?”

Suddenly, Boris rushed to the unsuspecting studio owner with his wrench held high.

“BORIS WAIT! HE’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK!” Bendy yelled. 

Joey barely had time to dodge as the metal weapon swiped by him. The limber man rolled away, shifting to and fro out of the continued swishing attacks from Boris. Meanwhile, Bendy was stock frozen watching the two move about.

Eventually the Wolf got slower in his attacks, allowing Joey to catch the forearm holding his weapon. However, this didn’t deter Boris. The cartoon took the immediate opportunity of being close to Joey to head-butt him full force, causing the man to yelp out and let go of Boris’s arm.

With Joey turned away, distracted with a bloody nose, Boris kicked him down to the floor. Now above him, the Wolf raised his weapon with both hands.

Joey, wide-eyed and holding his nose, scrambled out of the way just in time to watch the wrench crack the floor boards, unfortunately getting stuck in them.

While trying to yank his weapon free, Boris didn’t realize a hand was inches from his face until he looked up.

“Wait!” Bendy cried, running over to Joey. He unsuccessfully tried to push him away from his Wolf companion, “That’s Boris! You can’t hurt Boris!”

While trying to catch his breath, Joey’s iron gaze never left the cartoon Wolf’s. Instead, he tightened his glare. Studying him. Until finally he spoke.

“You’re not their Boris, are you?”

Boris raised his head to meet eyes with the studio owner. His stare equally cold.

“Pah! Don’t be stupid, Joey! Boris can’t talk!” Bendy said, pushing against the man harder.

Joey’s eyes turned sharper, “Answer. Me.”

Again, Boris was silent.

Bendy pushed hard enough to make Joey sway, “Leave ‘em alone, Joey! It’s Boris!” He was becoming somewhat hysterical.

Joey broke the iron stare-down to briefly linger on the Wolf’s metal gauntlet whose fingers were still firmly wrapped around the wrench lodged into the floor.

“Interesting arm you have there, ‘Boris’.” Joey flexed his fingers, making Boris flinch.

Bendy shook his head, “’Alice’…It was ’Alice’! She must have done something to ‘em! It’s Boris, it’s Boris! Leave! Him! Alone!!” He accentuated with pushes. Black tears had begun to leak from his screwed shut eyes. 

The two glared at one another.

Hm. Well. There’s always _different_ ways to make people talk.

Suddenly, Joey shifted his attention to the pushing cartoon demon. With his other hand, he grabbed Bendy’s floating head and pulled him into the air. Boris widened his eyes and tensed—wanting to get up, but with Joey’s demonically carved hand still inches from his face, he was forced down.

Ah ha! How sweet. The heroic type.

So dependable and typical. So easily controlled.

Bendy was trapped struggling in his grasp.

Joey smirked, “I’ll ask again. You’re not really their Boris, _are you_?”

Boris looked to Bendy, who tried his best to yell, but his mouth was smothered by Joey’s palm.

“Well?”

A few tense moments passed until Boris audibly sighed.

“No. I’m not.”

Bendy let out a muffled noise of surprise while Joey raised his eyebrow’s, recognizing the voice immediately.

He then released Bendy, letting him fall to the floor unceremoniously, “Connor? Thomas Connor?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Chapter 3 was getting a little hefty, so I had to chop it in half! Hopefully you enjoy this slightly shorter chapter! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I’d like to make a shout out to the REAL genius behind this fic, Star_Going_Supernova! This bad end spin off wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t for their fics “The Art of Being Alive” ((Its soon to be sequel! :D)) and “With Infinite Worlds, Everything Must Exist Somewhere”! Please support their amazing work!!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!


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